Kindling
by Stevie Malfoy
Summary: Now that I look around, I notice the tell-tale sings of the break-up. Picture frames were off the wall, their pictures taken out and piled in a corner, probably to be used as kindling for a fire later. Was my memory just kindling for Harry's fire too?"


"Kindling"

_-I would like to visit you for awhile_

_Get away and out of this city_

_Maybe I shouldn't have called but _

_Someone had to be the first to break_

_We can go sit on your back porch_

_Relax_

_Talk about anything _

_It don't matter_

_I'll be courageous if you can pretend_

_That you've forgiven me- _

I don't know why I'm here. Then again, I don't know much so I'm not going to really ponder on what I know and don't know. Right now I have a few more important things to worry about such as what I will say if I actually can muster the courage to ring your doorbell...I even wonder if I have enough courage to do just that. Courage. That was your forte. You even had the courage to walk away; I don't think I could have done that.

After standing with my finger poised to press the white button next to you're for close to ten minutes, but what seems like hours, I resign that I can't do it. Not yet anyway. I sit down on your doorstep, wondering why I can't just do it. It's a simple action, pressing a button, but we both know the repercussions won't be as simple. It is cold outside for early spring, and I wrap my coat tighter around me, but at least some of the snow has melted. I lean my head back against your door to contemplate my situation, and to my utter surprise my head does strike a solid surface, but it's not the door. I feel back expecting to hit the door, but suddenly the door wasn't there and my head hit the floor. After my eyes regained focus, and my hearing returned, I could see you, above me.

"Dr-Draco?" you stutter as you look down and run a hand through your unruly hair. Trust me, you're just as surprised as I am but you probably won't have a bump the size of a small egg on the back of your head tomorrow to prove it. I just lay there, at your front door, half in shock of the irony of the situation: of course you had to open the door as soon as I went to lie back against it and half because I'm scared that if I move my already booming headache will get worse. And maybe there is still hope that if I just sit still you won't notice I'm here.

Sadly, while I'm still pretending to be invisible, I cannot ignore the hand you have offered to help me up. I take it, relishing in the feeling of your skin on mine, something that once meant so much that now means nothing at all. After righting myself and resisting the urge to fall over due to dizziness, we stand in your doorway looking at each other as if we haven't seen the other before. You look different, something about you has changed, and I think that if I just stare at you long enough I'll figure it all out.

"Let me run to get the post," you say barely above a whisper," then I'll get you some ice. Make yourself comfortable."

I watch you as you walk down the pathway leading to your mailbox from your door. There is something about the way you move that captivated me from the beginning and this walk to your mailbox was no different. You must feel me staring because you turn around to look at me and I blush and offer a small smile. The only response I receive is the sound of the mailbox door slamming shut, probably a little more forcefully than it needed to be. The walk back up the walkway seems slower and I'd like to think was because you were being cautious around the slippery ice-slicks that had formed in the pathway but something tells me you walk slower so you don't have to face me as soon.

You walk into the door, seeming not to even notice my presence anymore as you walk right past me, but you hold the door open, inviting me in, and I hastily accept the invitation. The house seems much the same, though some of my decorating expertise is definitely needed in a few places. Stuff for the Order was still visible in various places though the war had been over for over a year. But I don't have time to think of these things either because I am hurriedly being chauffeured into the kitchen.

You throw the mail down on the table and get a cloth to put ice in and I honestly wonder why you don't simply perform a pain relief or healing spell. I also wonder why you have a mailbox, what happened to owls, but that is irrelevant. Then slowly but surely the ice enigma dawns of me: you want me to be in pain. Well if that's what you want, you can have it. I pull up a chair to the table and tentatively touch the ice to my head. It stings at first but thankfully there is no blood.

You don't say anything, you don't even look at me, and I know coming here was a mistake, but hell, one of us had to do it. It might as well have been me.

I glance at the mail and a magazine on the table addressed to a Mr. Harry Potter-Taylor and my heart drops. Not like I ventured to think he was single and get my hopes up, but it did hurt to see it in black and white on paper. Why had I come...?

"Before you freak out, we broke up. Noah and I, that is. I was just subscribed to Quidditch Monthly under that name," he says, and for a minute my hopes flare up again. Did he notice the disappointment in my face when I saw the mail? And he volunteered the information that he was single...you're getting carried away Draco, stop it. But what if I don't want to? False hopes are sometimes better than harsh reality.

Apparently my musings had spanned over several minutes of awkward silence and it was the whistle of the kettle that brought me out of my reverie. Now that I look around, I notice the tell-tale sings of the break-up. Picture frames were off the wall, their pictures taken out and piled in a corner, probably to be used as kindling for a fire later. He seemed to be taking it well. I can almost remember how the walls looked when they were covered with pictures of Harry andI. The house definitely seemed happier then; was my memory just kindling for his fire now? Once upon a time, not too long ago, I was kindling for a fire of Harry's, a fire of passion, and even before that, back at Hogwarts, I was fuel for his fire of hatred. It seemed like my fuel was what kept him going, what ever kind of fire it may be. What was I now? Did Harry even need fuel now? Or was his fire out?

"Draco!"

I am snapped out of my metaphorical world of fire and kindling as Harry's voiced echoes off the walls. I really did need to try to focus.

"Sorry, Harry." These are the first words I have said in our encounter and ironically they say it all. I'm sorry for not listening. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry I didn't know. I'm sorry I didn't try harder. I'm sorry! Yes, that says it all. I'm handed a cup of Earl Grey (Did he make it because it's my favorite? Does he even remember it's my favorite?) and yet again I don't have time to think of it all, as I am now holding the steaming mug, looking into his eyes. They are different too.

"You do like Early Grey, right?"

I nod. He remembered after all.

"Let's sit out back; I've got a few chairs on the porch we can talk."

Sure, let's talk, because that's what we've been so good at over the last thirty minutes. But maybe that was our problem: communication.

"Sure, H-Harry, let's talk."

I curse myself for stuttering, he probably thinks me a bumbling idiot. But I didn't stutter because of a speech impediment, or because I am afraid to say it. I stuttered because it felt so foreign on my tongue after not saying it for over a year. Hopefully I'll just have to learn this language all over again. And so it begins.

_-Because I don't know you anymore_

_I don't recognize your face_

_The picture frames have changed and so has your name_

_And so has your name_

_We don't talk much anymore_

_We keep running from the pain_

_But what I wouldn't give to see your face again_

_Springtime in the city_

_Always such a relief from the winter freeze_

_The snow was more lonely thank cold if you know what I mean_

_Everyone's got an agenda_

_Don't stop, keep that chin up you'll be alright_

_Can you believe what a years it been?_

_Are you still the same?_

_Has your opinion changed?-_

That went better than I expected, I thought, as I finished off the last of my tea. The problem is that we danced around most of the issues but at least we did manage to talk. I think we needed that. I laughed a little louder at times and you smiled a little more unguardedly. Maybe it is possible to open up after all? And even though we didn't really touch on anything deep, we did make a promising start. Suddenly it seemed as if I hadn't been gone for all that long. Sadly, our moment of understanding was interrupted by a low mechanical chime. What did Harry have a cell phone? No matter, I decided to leave him alone for his conversation and grabbed his empty mug to bring back inside to the kitchen.

As I stepped back inside I was more sensitive to my surroundings. Maybe it was because I was no longer distracted by Harry or maybe because the pain at the back of my head had stopped throbbing so intensely and allowed me to concentrate. The walls of the den were still painted the same emerald green that I had picked out because I thought it matched Harry's eyes but swore it was because I was Slytherin. The scent of lemongrass and ginger that I will forever associate with Harry's house was still there, as strong as ever. Even though I hadn't been there in over a year, it was beginning to feel like home again.

I walked into the kitchen and placed both mugs in the sink, but I couldn't help but notice a black box in the corner of the counter top. Curiosity killed the cat, as it was, but I really didn't have all the much to loose at the time. After causally looking around, wondering why I was so interested in the damn box, I "accidentally" knocked it off of the counter. "Oops," I say to myself mentally as I go to pick up (better known as dig through) the contents of the box that I had knocked to the floor. I still don't know why I was so drawn to it, maybe it held his grocery lists and coupons? But this box was never here while I was living here, and I wanted to know what was in it.

As I looked down, I see my own smiling face staring right back. Littering the floor was hundreds of pictures of Harry and I from when we were together and a dozen letters or so letter addressed to...me? Slowly, I thumb through the pictures, remembering times gone by, better times. After looking through the pictures, I took the bundle of letter. With slightly trembling hands, though I don't know why, I opened the first letter. It was dated August 12, the day after we split up. It read:

_Draco,_

_Last night was the first night I spent in a cold, lonely bed in almost two years and I don't know what to do with myself. During the night I kept reaching over, hoping to feel you and have you tell me it was all going to be alright, but that expected comfort never came. All my hand felt was a cold pillow, and this only intensified the cold in my heart. _

_I have never been one for words, but since you will never read these because I won't send them, I don't really need to worry about what I sound like. I'm doing this for myself, to justify my actions, not to explain them to you, why I had to let you go._

_You have to understand, Draco, that while you were (and much to my despair, still are) one of the most important things in my life, there is one cause that I hold above all others and that is my fight for the Light. I don't know if you could ever fully understand what it means to me, so I won't even bother to explain._

_Draco, this isn't because you wouldn't join the Light, or even because you wouldn't join the Dark, it's because you didn't choose at all. You let something that affects you so much pass right by without trying to change it, or even giving a damn about it. I don't understand how you couldn't fight for what it is you choose to believe in, no matter what it is. But maybe that's my problem, I don't understand._

_Draco, I don't love you any less than I ever have or ever will now, it's just that you made a choice not to choose, and I had to make a choice too. Maybe after all this dies down things can be different, but as long as it is still going on, I have no room for indecision in my life. I love you Draco, but now I have to fight._

_All my love,_

_Harry_

And so the letters went on. Some were long, some short, some angry, some lonely, some sad. Each had something to say, something that I needed to hear. For once in my life I wanted tears to fall, but some invisible force held them back. It hurt like hell.

"Ahem..."

I nearly leapt clear off of the floor as I whipped my head around to see Harry leaning in the doorway. I felt like a child caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar, only I knew that the punishment would be worse than no dessert after dinner.

"Harry, I put the mugs down...and I accidentally...bit it knocked over...and the letter just opened...and I..."I was great with words in such situations.

"You never were a good liar. I have been standing here the whole time."

"Harry, listen, I don't know why I did it. I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have, but I didn't know. I learned so much..." the words came tumbling out my mouth one after the other; I had little or no control. I am trying desperately to hold back the tears that now decide they want to fall. It hurts like hell.

"That's partially why I couldn't understand your indecision," he was standing over me speaking, and now I truly felt like the scolded child, "I could see the truth in your eyes but you wouldn't admit it. I don't know why you couldn't when you obviously wanted to. Was it pride? Honor?"

"Harry, what are you talking about?"

"I knew during the war that you wanted to join the Light, but you didn't, you remained neutral and acted like you didn't care. I could see what you wanted, but your actions certainly didn't give you away. I guess me leaving you was meant to be a push in the right direction, I don't know, it made sense at the time but it doesn't sound too good out loud now. But nevertheless you were more stubborn that I expected. I didn't mean for it to end like this, any of this, I thought maybe you just needed an affirmation that what you were doing was right. I don't know why I thought that leaving you would help," Harry was now yelling through a strained voice, clearly trying not to cry, "but none of it makes any sense now! Nothing made sense at the time either! Why couldn't you just admit it?"

"Because I was scared, Harry! I was so fucking scared! Scared of loosing you, scared of being in the war!" scared like I was now with him looking directly into my eyes. It was sending shivers up and down my spine and as I tried to yell, my voice consistently broke down. "I wanted to have my own beliefs, and establish them on my own. All my life I had been spoon-fed what to believe and I didn't want that anymore! I wanted to think, to decide for once! Sorry if I couldn't do that fast enough for you!" my voice finally gave way to the sobs that were vying for their way out of my mouth. I looked rather childish crying on the kitchen floor of Harry Potter, but at the time I didn't care. "I was just fucking scared..."

"I-I didn't know...I was so ready to make my choice, to fight, I couldn't see why anyone else couldn't be so sure. I'm sorry..."his own sobs cut him off of he lowered himself to the floor, both of us still crying, but holding on for dear life. Clearly, thought it was over, the war had taken its toll on the two of us.

As both of us came down from our emotional high, Harry was the first to speak, "That was Noah earlier on the phone, he's coming by to get the rest of his stuff soon and I think it would be best if we weren't here." I nodded my agreement into his neck where my head was currently nestled because I didn't trust myself to speak yet. Maybe it was a good thing I came by.

_-I know I let you down _

_Again and again_

_I know I never really treated you right_

_I've paid the price_

_I'm still paying for it everyday_

_So maybe I shouldn't have called_

_Was it too soon to tell?_

_Oh, what the hell_

_It doesn't really matter_

_How do you redefine something that never really had a name?_

_Has your opinion changed?_

_I see your face...-_

Slowly we made our way to a bench near the Thames. Harry walking under the crook in my arm seemed like the most natural ting in the world, like he was meant to be there. Upon sitting down, Harry rested his head against my neck, and for the second time that day sent shivers up and down my spine. The closeness was almost overwhelming. And while we sat in silent, enjoying the sun setting on the Thames, the little moment of perfection that I had managed to latch onto, we were us again, whatever "us" was, but I just had to ask. My curiosity solved a lot of problems earlier, maybe a little more wouldn't kill me.

"Why?"

"Why what?" was the muffled response uttered against my neck.

"Why did it end with Noah?" As soon as I had asked, I wished I hadn't. Why did I have to go and ruin such a perfect moment?

Harry looked up at me, eyes sparkling in the setting sun, perfectly matching the shade of _our_ den. His eyes looked as they looked when we were back in Hogwarts, when we were back in love. "Because," he whispered softly, "it's hard to see the good in others when you've already found the best in someone else."

I quickly decided that no words could adequately respond to Harry's statement, so a kiss would have to do. As I leaned in to claim what was mine, I saw the fire ignite in Harry's eyes once more, and smiled knowing I was the kindling to this fire. The kiss seemed to last an eternity, and as we broke apart finally, I know I saw the fire in Harry's eyes grow.


End file.
